


No Love Could Be So Fair

by Luka z Rivii (wayward_dream)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Ballads, F/M, Fluff, Geralt and Jaskier are good friends, Geralt doesn't understand emotions, Jaskier is heartsick, Light Angst, One Night Stand, Original Poem, Pining, jaskier is overdramatic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23505520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_dream/pseuds/Luka%20z%20Rivii
Summary: Jaskier spots you dancing one night as he's performing, and his life was never the same.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 64





	No Love Could Be So Fair

Spirits are running high and Jaskier has the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand when a flash of motion in the crowd draws his eye.

_ She’s beautiful, _ he thinks in amazement, and it’s only due to his years of training that he doesn’t freeze in his playing to stop and just stare as you dance and spin on the floor of the tavern, to many cheers and whistles. Your hair fans out around you like a halo as you twirl, and he catches a glimpse of your face: flushed, grinning, eyes shut with a look of rapture. You’re dancing for no one but yourself, letting the music carry you, and Jaskier decides then and there that he just has to know you.

Jaskier finishes his song amidst a surge of cheers and whistles as you come to a halt, opening your eyes and looking around you with a shy, captivating grin.

He finishes his set, of course. He’s a professional. But for the rest of the evening his eyes never stray far from you. He notices you seem to be by yourself, occasionally pausing for another drink but never joining any groups, and always dancing on your own, un-self conscious and free.

As his last song ends, Jaskier bows to the cat calls and cheers of the crowd. They toss him a sparse amount of coin, but for once his mind is otherwise occupied. Setting his lute across his back, he strode over to the bar where he could see you lingering over another drink. Leaning on the counter top, he signalled the bartender with a grin, watching you out of the corner of his eye as he ordered a cup of honeyed wine.

“You were very good,” you murmured breathlessly and Jaskier felt himself preening as he twisted, leaning one arm on the bar to face you with a grin.

“Why thank you. I saw you enjoying my talents,” he replied. Noting the way your eyes lingered on him, he let his grin turn a little sly as his fingers flitted nimbly up your arm, coming to rest lightly under your chin and tilting it up. “Would you like to enjoy a few more, little robin?” he purred. A blush rose on your cheeks, he saw your pupils dilate, and he knew you were his.

Still, why rush things? Half the fun was in the chase. Jaskier used his hard earned coin to pay for drink after drink as the two of you chatted and bantered until his head was buzzing pleasantly, and then you stumbled up the stairs and into his bed. There was breathless laughter as you fumbled with each other’s clothes, possessive touches that turned wistful as your eyes met. Jaskier claimed your lips in a slow, lingering kiss as your bodies entwined.

When he woke in the morning you were gone, and Jaskier tried to ignore the ache in his chest as he yanked on his breeches and tried to tame his hair into a more charming disarray.

* * *

“What’s so special about her?” Geralt grunted.

Jaskier heaved a put-upon sigh, plucking a few mournful notes on his lute. “It’s not something I can put into words, and even if I could you wouldn’t understand.”

That got him a brief look, unreadable to most but Jaskier caught the flash of hurt and irritation in his amber gaze. “Because witchers don’t feel?” he almost spat.

Jaskier huffed. “Because you’re not a poet, or a romantic,” he replied. “Don’t be so daft.” Rolling his eyes, Jaskier plucked a few more notes before scribbling down a few words in his notebook. He could feel Geralt scrutinizing him, but he pretended he couldn’t.

“Try,” the witcher finally coaxed softly, earning a surprised glance from the bard. Geralt shrugged and Jaskier fought a smile, looking down.

“The moment I laid eyes on her….she was a whirl of color, vibrant and  _ alive  _ in a way that ensnared me, seized me and wouldn’t let go.” As Jaskier began to speak his fingers danced over his lute, plucking out a sweet but aching melody, full of wanting and finding and loss. Geralt remained quiet, but Jaskier knew he was listening, so he continued, “And she wasn’t just beautiful. She was  _ funny, _ and intelligent. She was….she was everything, and I had her, and she slipped away before I ever even got to ask for her name.” He sighed deeply. “And now even the sweetest pastries are ash on my tongue, the colors are faded and dull. Nothing will ever be the same, for a heart that has loved and lost will wither and decay. I shall soon be no more than a husk of the man I once was--”

Geralt snorted, breaking the somber mood as he tossed a hunk of bread at Jaskier. “Don’t be so melodramatic. Just write a song about her, sing it and move on.” 

Jaskier paused, quill poised over his notebook as he flashed Geralt an irritated look. “You think I haven’t tried that?” he scoffed. Geralt raised an eyebrow at him.

“Have you? I haven’t heard you singing any new songs recently.”

Jaskier sighed, looking down at his notebook, tracing his fingers over the ink inscribed like a caress. “I’ve written them, but to sing them for the public….it’s too much. They’re not meant for the people.” Jaskier’s voice was uncharacteristically soft and fragile as he spoke, and Geralt felt as though he were intruding on something private. 

He was at a loss as to how to help his friend, so he slid over until he could squeeze his knee silently. Jaskier shot him a tired, but grateful, smile, and the two of them lapsed into companionable silence under the stars.

* * *

Nothing really changes as the months go by, but Jaskier is still a bard and must make a living. So when he was offered a job to perform at a banquet, he dutifully accepted.

He arrived early enough to mingle a bit. He chatted and charmed and flirted, but his heart wasn’t really in it, so he was grateful when the arrival of the princess was announced, using it as an excuse to slip away and return to fetch his lute as the doors swung open. He focused on making sure it was tuned properly, and froze when he looked up.

There, in the last place he would have expected, you stood. You were frozen, gazing at him like a doe in the sights of a hunter’s crossbow as Jaskier drank in the sight of you. You were positively radiant, your hair woven into an intricate braid atop which sat a decadent tiara, and your gown was simply divine, hugging your waist and emphasizing a figure that Jaskier already knew intimately well. 

A blush colors your cheeks as Jaskier meets your gaze, and your eyes silently plead with him not to say anything. Jaskier forces a small smile and looks away from you, striking a chord on his lute that hushes the murmuring of the room. It’s as though everyone unfreezes. Jaskier watches you exhale and continue moving, mingling with the crowd. Everyone is moving again as he strikes a tune, lively and full of energy to get the crowd going. People begin to dance, and as he performs part of Jaskier’s attention is always on you, hoping.

But it’s different. You dance, but it’s practiced, poised and precise, not the energetic whirlwind he first became so enchanted with.

As his song comes to an end he lets it fade into something slower, a quiet melody that gives people time to exchange smiles and pair off for a slower dance. Jaskier’s eyes are glued to you as a handsome lord approaches and holds out his hand to you. He feels almost nauseous as you curtsey and offer a forced smile - Jaskier knows it’s forced, because he’s seen your genuine smile and laugh, he could never forget - and take his hand, stepping close.

Jaskier closes his eyes, not able to bear seeing you in another man’s arms. Knowing you’re in the same room, so close and yet still beyond his reach, and he makes a rather reckless decision.

_ Fairer than fresh roses bloomed _

_ She haunts each waking hour _

_ A laugh to shame the silver bells _

_ She traipses through ev'ry dream _

_ And though she never did tell _

_ She left me with nary a solace _

_ As she pulled me apart at the seams _

_ I love her by her smile _

_ I love her by her song _

_ I love her by her wiles _

_ She’s been gone from me too long _

_ A stolen dance by starlight _

_ Was all we had to share _

_ She left, my heart in hand _

_ No love could be so fair _

_ My love, my love, don’t fret my love _

_ I’ll find you once more someday _

_ My love my love, fear not my love _

_ My heart did never stray _

_ My dear my dear, have faith my dear _

_ I know our love is true _

_ My dear, my dear, please wait my dear _

_ I promise, I’ll find you soon _

His voice is full of emotion as he sings, and he keeps his eyes shut until the last verse, when he forces them open and scans the room until he finds you again. You’re focused on your partner, of course you are, and something bitter stings in his chest as he watches the two of you bow to each other before departing.

There’s scattered applause for his ballad, but his eyes are locked on you as you turn to him.

He’s stunned to see tears in your eyes, and a silent question. He looks down at his feet before looking up at you again. He shrugs one shoulder, nods. He winces as your hand covers your mouth and you close your eyes, and more than anything he wants to go to you, sweep you into his arms.

But you’re already being approached again, and he’s there to do a job.

Forcing his eyes away, Jaskier focuses on his music for the rest of the evening. He keeps going as the drinks flow, listening to the laughter and the clinking of glass as people propose drunken toasts. He plays into early morning, when people are falling asleep at their tables or stumbling out, alone or with partners. When there’s only a few people left, Jaskier finishes his last song and gives a bow to muted, scattered applause.

Sighing, he begins to pack up his lute, keeping his eyes down. He doesn’t think he could bear seeing you leave with someone else.

He’s so lost in his own head, he doesn’t hear the quiet scuff of approaching footsteps. He starts when a hand touches his shoulder and glances up, an apology ready on his lips as he prepares to explain he’s done for the night.

The words dry up in his throat as soon as his eyes meet yours.

“Hello,” you say quietly. Jaskier almost closes his eyes, the sound of your voice so familiar and welcome. It’s as though something wound tight in his chest begins to loosen as soon as you p0-spoke, and he exhales shakily.

“Hi,” he replies, unable to tear his eyes away. “Happy birthday.”

You ducked your head. “Thank you. I enjoyed your performance. That...one song….” Your hand fell away from his arm as you hugged yourself, and Jaskier ached at the loss.

He ran a hand through his hair. “The ballad? Yes, it’s….a new one. Tonight was the first time I ever sang it.”

“It was beautiful,” you said softly. “Jaskier--”

“What--” he began at the same time. The two of you paused, and for the first time that night he saw a genuine smile tug at your lips. Unable to help his answering grin, he gestured for you to go first.

“Jaskier, would you….join me for a walk?” you asked, shifting your weight nervously from foot to foot.

Sliding the strap of his lute’s case up his shoulder, Jaskier grinned and came to his feet. “I would love to.” He offered his arm to you, and his heart nearly burst with fondness when you giggled before tucking your hand into his arm. You placed your hand on top of his forearm and he gently placed his hand over yours. As your eyes met again, Jaskier felt his grin softening around the edges, his voice quiet, almost reverent as he asked, “Where to, my lady?”

“I thought a stroll through the gardens would be lovely,” you replied, biting your lip.

“The gardens it is. Lead the way,” he encouraged. You gave him a small smile, warm and a little wistful, and Jaskier thought he might just splinter apart at the end of the night but he was determined to hold onto you as long as he was able.

“You really wrote that song about me?” you asked softly as the two of you stepped out into the cool evening air.

“I did. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we parted ways,” Jaskier confessed, squeezing your hand gently where it rested on his arm. He glanced at you just in time to see you wince and look away. “That...upsets you?” he asked quietly.

“No!” you said hastily before snapping your eyes back to his. “No,” you continued more softly, “I think it’s very sweet.”

Jaskier stopped walking so you had to stop with him, gently gripping your arms and pulling you to stand in front of him. “Then what’s troubling you so, my little robin?” he asked  tenderly. He cupped your face gently in his hands, thumbs stroking along your cheeks, and rested your foreheads together when your eyes fluttered shut.

“This can’t work,” you whispered, and the words hurt him almost as much as the hiccuping sob you tried to stifle. His stomach churned dreadfully and he swallowed hard.

“Why not? Are you promised to someone else?” he asked.

“No, not yet--”

“Then you don’t love me,” he interrupted recklessly, causing your eyes to flash open incredulously. Jaskier pulled back and dropped his hands, trying not to look as sullen as he felt.

“How could you say that?” you demanded, hoarse whisper doing nothing to mask the outrage sparking in your eyes.

“How could I think anything else?” Jaskier countered defensively. “You left me, no goodbye, no note, not even your  _ name,  _ what else could I possibly believe, but that my heart would waste away pining for the one who slipped between fingers because my feelings were one-sided?”

A few tears spilled over to slip down your cheeks as you stared at Jaskier. “I’m not free to give my heart to whoever I wish, or it would be yours.” Hope bloomed almost painfully in Jaskier’s chest and he tentatively stepped closer, catching you as you fell into his arms. He stroked your hair soothingly as your shoulders shook, letting you cry into his shirt. He pressed a gentle kiss to your hair.

“Talk to me, darling,” he whispered.

“I h-have...have to choose a noble to marry, my parents would never accept a bard no matter how I felt,” you murmured into his shirt and Jaskier felt a grin start to stretch across his features.

“Well then, now might be a good time to tell you that while I’m a bard by profession, I was born a viscount.” He smiled down at you as you looked up at him, watching confusion give way to shock and then melt into hope, desperate and devastating as it seized upon the two of you.

Jaskier couldn’t wait any longer, leaning down to kiss you slow and deep. He felt your arms winding around his neck as he rested his hands on your waist, and when you pulled back you were smiling despite the tear tracks drying on your cheeks. He thumbed away the moisture absently, positively giddy that he’d found you, that he might get to  _ keep _ you this time.

“I think I should go tell my parents I’ve chosen a suitor,” you whispered, leaning your face into his gentle touch as you looked at him from under your lashes.

“Y-yeah?” Jaskier asked, and he knew you saw your own hope and fear reflected in his eyes when your gaze softened.

“Yes,” you confirmed, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling away, slipping out of his arms to tangle your fingers together. Laughing shakily, he allowed you to tug him along, back to the castle, squeezing your hand. 

“You know,” he said thoughtfully as he followed you back in, “you still haven’t told me your name.”

You paused as you looked at him over your shoulder, eyes as bright as the first night he saw you. “Y/N,” you told him shyly, a bashful grin curling your lips. “I’m Y/N.”

_ Finally.  _ “Y/N,” he repeated reverently, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a light kiss to your knuckles. He wasn’t going to let you slip away from him again.

**Author's Note:**

> The "ballad" Jaskier sings is an original poem, and the first one I wrote in literal years, so....be kind.


End file.
